


What once was mine

by Nigamiestmajeur_e



Category: Disney - All Media Types, Tangled (2010)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:02:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23073643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nigamiestmajeur_e/pseuds/Nigamiestmajeur_e
Summary: Once upon a time, there was a witch and her Sun.
Kudos: 1





	What once was mine

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [What once was mine](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14558538) by [Nigamiestmajeur_e](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nigamiestmajeur_e/pseuds/Nigamiestmajeur_e). 



Once upon a time, once it was and once it will be, a world where earthlings could talk to the celestial bodies, and the celestial bodies answered to the earthlings. And so, the Sun lavished warmth to its beloved, the Moon offered dreams when the day ended, the Stars were keeping secrets well hidden. And so, it happened that a star wedded a firefly, that a planet concealed a treasure, that the Moon helped fairies to fly, that the Sun fell in love with a witch.  
The witch's real name, everybody forgot.  
The witch's childhood, nobody wanted to remember.  
Luckily, there was and there will be, story-tellers such as me.

The Witch was born in a wooden house deep into the forest. There were other wooden houses into that forest but these didn't sheltered witches. These sheltered people who were nice when it was convenient for them. Therefore, when they discovered that a girl born into a wooden house was a witch, they were very nice, for it was known that a witch could be useful. A witch could cure diseases, and diseases were weaknesses, diseases were dangerous, especially into the forest. The Witch's neighbor, for example, was eaten by wolves because she had mumps. Therefore, the people who lived in the wooden houses were very very nice to the Witch, and the Witch provided them so much care. 

The Witch spent her entire childhood and her adolescence curing the people of the forest, so much that she didn't see her entire childhood and her adolescence flying. She was dreaming to see the world, to see it grow, to see it change. But the only things she saw changing was everyone's clothes, more and more colorful, was everyone's houses, more and more brick-build, was everyone's weapons, more and more shining.

One day, one of the inhabitants gave her a book as a payment for curing him. But the Witch never learnt how to read. She even never saw a book before. She was so busy taking care of the people of the forest that she never left the forest, imprisoned in her wooden house.

Stunned by her lack of culture, the inhabitant who gave her a book taught her how to read. Then he gave her a nib and he taught her how to write. Then he gave her paint and he taught her how to draw. Then he gave her a ring and he taught her how to love him. Then he gave her a dress and they married. The Witch's happiness let her forget that she once wanted to leave the forest.

But one day, her husband fell ill, seriously ill. The entire forest expected funerals, thought the Witch would become the Widow. Terrified to lose the only one that ever counted to her, the Witch called for all her magic until exhaustion : for two days and two nights, the Witch was at her man's bedside, mumbling spells, singing forbidden incantations, making their brick house tremble. And so, on the morning of the third day, the husband opened his eyes and felt really better. He kissed his sweet little wife who definitely was in a bad way but happy. The inhabitants sighed of relief, and knocked at the Witch's door to receive their care. But she couldn't help them in her condition so they waited... very impatiently. For two days and two nights, the Witch rested, not mumbling spells anymore, not singing forbidden incantations, not making the brick house tremble either. And so, on the morning of the third day, the inhabitants knocked at the Witch's door very violently to require their care.  
With difficulty, the Witch opened the door and tried to help them.  
In vain.  
The Witch wasn't witch anymore.  
Her powers were gone.

Enraged that the Witch wasn't useful now, the people of the forest threatened purely and simply to kill her if she didn't leave the village. The Witch who wasn't witch anymore prepared her baggages, putting her clothes in one bag but when she was going to take her favorite book, the first book someone gave to her, her husband caught it and kept it, saying it was better to sell it. The Witch didn't understand why he was going to keep it, and he said purely and simply that he wasn't going with her. That he never loved her. That he married her because she was a Witch and it was known that a witch could be useful. And she wasn't a witch anymore, so now he could leave her. Turning the talk into action, the husband who wasn't a husband anymore took the books and the drawings that the Witch made and put them into the fire.  
And it burnt the Witch's heart more than when the inhabitants said they wanted to see her dead.

Never did the forest see a woman more sad while she was running far away from the once-wooden houses, once her home. She cried her eyes out, cried so much she didn't see she crossed a bear, didn't see she reached the edge of the wood, didn't see the root next to her foot. The Witch crumbled on the grown, giving herself up to her despair. Why going far away if the world was dark, and selfish, and cruel like the people of the forest ?

The Sun witnessed all of this, witnessed the heart of the young woman begloomed. Out of pity, It slid one of Its ray on the Witch's cheek to dry her tears. Seeing the kindness shining from the star, the Witch stopped crying and let the warmth shroud her. Through the clouds, the Sun opened up a way that she followed, crossing fields after fields, plains after plains, then another forest until she arrived at the foot a tower. A gigantic tower. The Sun showed her a door, the Witch entered and went upstairs before seeing a deserted lounge. Her new house. Her home. Pointing the sky. Pointing the Sun.

The Witch spent the rest of her adulthood in this tower, the windows always open so her Sun could wake her up every morning and kiss her goodbye every evening. She was happy in this tower, and was only coming down to buy fruits, vegetables and new clothes, or even to pick flowers like roses or, her favorite ones, rampions. She even bought a mirror, for her Sun was always lighting her up, so maybe she was beautiful ? The Witch never asked herself that question, with her fake husband. But she saw that every time she was looking into the mirror, sunbeams glided along her leg, passed softly on her belly, caressed gently her arms and stopped on her face, illuminating up the features of her face.

The Witch realized how much she loved the Sun when she was lying down on a beach and the celestial king kissed her bare feet. She became the Sun's lover. Her summers and springs couldn't be compared to happiness, her autumns and winters were chases to her beloved across countries. She traveled the world surrounded by glimmer, protected by a magic above everything. 

Days, months, years, decades passed. The Witch aged. She couldn't live in her hundred-stepped tower, she couldn't follow her Sun across countries, and her beauty faded. She knew it. The Sun didn't care, still caressing her withered skin, but sadness came over both of their lives for they knew that one day the Witch would die while the Sun would live another eternity. Another eternity the Sun couldn't bear to spend without her. The Witch settled down in a little house next to the beach where she had some of her best moments in her life, and where she would rest peacefully.

In Its sorrow to see the one love of Its existence leaving, the Sun cried one tear on Earth. A tear, a drop, that transformed into a flower. The Witch wasn't witch anymore, but she still knew the power of stars, and the power of words. Inspired, she sang a prayer, she sang an incantation, she sang her wish to live longer, to make the most of the gift of her lover, that gift, that flower, that love. She sang, and her cheeks went pink again. She sang, and her gray eyes shined like before. She sang, and her curly hair became the color of ebony. She sang, then hid the flower, ready as she would ever be to protect such a present, ready as she would ever be to live long enough, young enough, ready to do anything to stay near her Sun.

Since then, everybody call the Witch another name. The Godmother. Mother Gothel.


End file.
